All together
Dawn came up quickly that August morn in 1942. As the kid stepped out on the weather deck and set his eyes to the horizon, the sight astounded him -- ships as far as the eye could see! More ships than he could ever imagine could be together in one place. In the distance he could see the outline of a great carrier, and nearby the silhouette of a heavy cruiser. Destroyers were everywhere, and the number of troop ships seemed uncountable. The mighty Marine First Division had arrived. The fighting force had been assembled and the landings would soon be executed.
The day preceding the invasion dawned and brought forth feverish activity. Though the Marines had already belted a huge quantity of ammunition, they continued to do so. They didn't know what the demand would be, and were not taking any chances. The guns were checked and rechecked with loving care. Every round of ammunition was cleaned and fitted into rifle clips. No one wanted a misfire when it came time to use them.
Needless to say, they all did much thinking about themselves. Most attended church services held for each denomination. Though there was a growing tension, the morale was good as they all had the utmost faith that the operation would succeed.
D-Day
The Crescent City stood still and dark in the predawn off the shores of the Solomon Islands. Its sister ships were equally so. Below decks the troops were readied for departure. A hurried breakfast had been served and the cooks had given them the best they had, knowing that the troops would be in need of all the energy they could muster.
The briefings, held a few days before, stated that they would be landing on the islands of Guadalcanal, Tulagi, Guvutu and Tanumbogo. The main island of Guadalcanal would be the objective of the First Division as they were a complete division. The Second Division stood in as reinforcements. The Kid's company, Regimental Weapons, was to be held in reserve. The assaults would be preceded by intense naval ship bombardments, plus the Japs were bombed by naval air units for a number of days before the intended landings.
The day had worn on into darkness, night so black that naught could be distinguished above decks. Below in the semi-gloom of the darkened ship, men were moving about, preparing for the coming of dawn and whatever it might bring. There were the final adjustments of packs and their contents. Once again checking arms, ammo and filling canteens with fresh water and laying out battle dungarees. Men grumbled as they dug around in sea bags for essential items.
A rifle clattered to the deck with a startling racket, its owner being jokingly chided, laughing good-natured with a tinge of nervousness in his young voice. Finally things became quiet and all that could be heard was the steady, vibrant hum of the engines and the nearly inaudible voices from the game under the night light. Night dragged by, sleepers stirred restlessly as the card players continued sparring with Lady Luck.
Show time
At 0300 the special sea details were sent to their stations. "General quarters" had been maintained from sunset. The anchor watch went forward, knowing they were very close to their destination. At about 0330, the sergeant came below to inform that they were not to leave their quarters and to stand by until further orders. They became aware that they were no longer moving; the ship's engines had stopped. Drifting down from the decks above came the sounds of the ship's winches, telling the Marines that the landing boats were being put over the sides. Soon they would be spilling human cargo upon the beaches. The kid marveled at the skill the Navy men showed in handling the boats in the pitch darkness. No easy task.
Though the Kid's company was to be held in reserve, there were other companies aboard that were to be part of the initial landing force. Their departure was noted in the footsteps that resounded from the upper decks. The men in Hold Number Three were envious of those who were going ashore. These troops were to be part of the landing force to pitted against the occupiers of the islands of Tulagi, Guvutu and Tanumbogo. Three small but well-defended islands that lay across the bay from the main island of Guadalcanal.
The waiting began. The boats had not been away an hour when the sounds of a heavy naval bombardment could be heard from the boats' mother ship. Peering out from the hatchway, they could see the great flashes from the guns lighting up the horizon, assisting the first streaks of dawn to brighten the sky. It was an awesome moment, for those were the first salvos of our vengeance for Pearl Harbor and Wake, and for the gallant men who died on Bataan.
The first assault waves hit the beaches in the early morning light, and soon the reports began to come back. Surprisingly Guadalcanal gave little resistance, but for the others it was a different story. The small islands of Tulagi, Gavutu and Tanumbogo put up stiff resistance and in some instances the landing boats were driven back and had to make a second try to get the Marines ashore. Having gotten ashore, the Marines fought a vicious battle, often hand-to-hand. On Tulagi, the Japs had holed up in its many caves and dugouts, and had to be blasted out with grenades and demo charges, or by assaulting the caves with machine guns. The Japs reverted to every trick in the book and breached every rule of warfare. They shot the Marines' corpsmen, who plainly wore no weapons; yet the Japanese disguised their ammo dumps as aid stations and fired on our men under their own surrender flags. However, it did not take the Marines long to acquire a few tricks of our own and apply them with success. Neither side asked for any quarter and neither side gave any.
Air attacks
Retaliatory air attacks from the Jap air force were expected. Their planes based on Truk and Rebaul were well in range of these islands. Around noon on 7 August, the air alert sounded and all guns came to the alert. They came in high and well out of range of our anti-aircraft guns — but not out of range of our fighter aircraft, which were sitting high above waiting for their arrival. Their bombing run was made more for the troops ashore on 'Canal than for the ships or Tulagi. No hits were made on the troop ships. Of the entire Japanese squadron, it was reported that only two aircraft escaped. During the night more bombers came, dropping flares to illuminate the convoy, which was shrouded by heavy clouds and torrents of rain.
From his perch on a darkened searchlight frame, the Kid watched the eerie scene. The bombers wheeled and dived in and out of the clouds, dropping more flares in their endless search. Our guns remained silent, not wishing to give away our position. Finally, after a vain hour of probing in the darkness, they dropped their bombs where they thought our troops were and called it a night. The Kid, too, called it a night and returned to quarters. Soaking wet and worn out, he slept peacefully the rest of the night.
Air alert
With the sound of reveille the next morning, the Kid made his way to the open deck, stumbling over the usual cables and wires on his way to the chow line. He stopped long enough to look about him, searching the sky, the sea and the islands. Rising above Guadalcanal was a huge column of black smoke, emanating from a Jap oil storage tank that had been destroyed by the Navy's guns. Off in the distance Tulagi was visible, covered by a pall of smoke and fire and still trembling with the concussion of exploding shells from the destroyers, which fired in rapid succession. All that could be heard of those shells was a dull spasmodic rumbling that reached across the bay's vastness. So far so good, but what was the next move and who would make it?
They were busy squaring away quarters when the routine was interrupted by the air-alert signal as loudspeakers chanted, "General quarters, general quarters! Set conditions 1-A, set conditions 1-A!" All hands dropped their immediate tasks and hurried to their stations. As he had been recently assigned to a machine gun (some of which had been mounted as an extra precaution), the Kid grabbed an extra ammo box and hurried to his post. The regular watch had the gun set on half-load and was standing by when he arrived and took his place beside him.
They stood by for half an hour before the planes came into sight — all bombers and coming in low over the island. They made a single run over the beachhead, strafing the troops and dropping their bombs in one sweep. Then banking sharply, they headed for the transports. Guns went to the ready! They flew close to the water, dodging in and out among the ships, hoping to use them as a shield against our aircraft. That was a costly mistake as our ships opened fire as they swept within easy range of our guns. Our ship accounted for downing at least five of the Jap planes alone. The first came across the bow some 200~300 yards out and was brought crashing into the sea by the forward gun crews. The second and third planes were blasted to bits as they came parallel to the port-side guns, and the fourth was shot down by the stern guns. That plane came in so close that one of the crew dived head-first down a hatch to get out of the way!
The fifth Jap plane was the most aggressive of the lot, or rather the most desperate, and gave the ship's gunners a few breathless moments. His approach brought him across the bow of our nearest ship and directly toward the Crescent City. He received a crippling blow from our neighboring ship that staggered him somewhat but he was not out of control. His engines were smoking and sputtering and he was losing altitude; it was obvious he could never hope to escape altogether. Frantically he fought the controls in an effort to keep his ship in the air a little longer — long enough to crash into our starboard side.
Every gun was pouring all it had into that plane with a prayer on every bullet. Some fired wildly in their excitement, others fired with the coolness of old experienced gunners. Still the bomber came on. Standing beside his assigned gun, all the Kid could do was curse and pray between clinched teeth, doing a good job of each. The wall of tracers that fingered outward toward the plane formed an arch of flame that burned into the vitals of the enemy, now very much afire. Suddenly the plane faltered in its seemingly endless flight — one wing dipped into the sea and the plane cart-wheeled into the water, a scant 80 yards from the ship. The silence that followed was like a prayer of thanksgiving, which it was.
Click for detailed background:
History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II
Vol. I: Pearl Harbor to Guadalcanal
by Lt. Col. Frank Hough, USMC-R;
Major Verle Ludwig, USMC;
Henry Shaw, Jr.
What lay ahead. . .
Marine surveys the effects of U.S. Navy's bombardment of Naha, Okinawa (1945)
Close call — A Japanese "Betty" bomber floating off of Tulagi after being shot down during air attacks on U.S. Navy forces on 8 Aug. 1942. Designed for maximum range at all costs, the Betty was a lightly armored flying fuel tank.
Water skimmers — Low-flying Japanese "Betty" bombers attack U.S. vessels off Tulagi, Aug. 1942.
